


Dandelion's Tales, Part 2

by TheAlfanator



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Fanfiction, Fantasy, Gen, Mystery, Witcher - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 06:27:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13229931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAlfanator/pseuds/TheAlfanator
Summary: Continuing directly on from the first part, Dandelion merges once again with Dune, in an increasingly difficult task; to survive after things go wildly wrong.  It is up to Dandelion to figure out and exploit the mysteries of a stumbled-upon village in the middle of nowhere.  Meanwhile, an unknown yet familiar ally returns...





	1. Once Again

**Author's Note:**

> This work of fanfiction is based off The Witcher. If you want a front row seat of my stories, you can check out my Tumblr here: https://thealfanator.tumblr.com/  
> This is where I post my work first, so if you're eager to read, you can source them there!  
> Please enjoy.  
> Also, it it HIGHLY recommended that you read Dandelion's Tales and The Steel that Warmed Us in the Night-Time before starting this one as there are frequent references to each.

Dear Reader. It is I, Master Dandelion! Back again from the depths of the complex, tangling Novigrad streets so that I can present to you the next chapter of my story. You remember the previous one, right? My extravagant tales with my faithful ally, Dune? I hope you do, because this is my continuation of it, right here (Please read the first one, I beg you.) Wait, you can’t read it? Of course; my apologies. There’s only one copy of it stuffed in my chambers at the Chameleon! What am I saying… wait, where are you running off to? Wait!  
Oh well, I’m probably coming home to a broken-in building. Nevertheless, here it is! Now, I must warn you. This second adventure is a much more dangerous yet eventful story than the first – not that I’m afraid of danger, of course! I am not a fighter, or a swordsman however I can handle myself, you know. I don’t need a sword to talk my way out of a situation! I mean, I guess I can say I have Dune for that, though I dislike his sudden sword flashes at every given opportunity… though if he hadn’t, I’d probably be dead by now!  
I’ve rambled on too long! Please enjoy.

After receiving that note – the one about meeting “D” at Farcorners the next evening, my anticipation of excitement within me pulsated in rhythm with my heartbeat. I immediately burned the letter and jumped around like an overly-hysterical Nekker. I’m pretty sure I woke everybody else up in the building; all the drunken lads, tired bartenders and extraordinary musicians. (Apologies for that, by the way.) I spent the next day preparing myself. Yes, I knew it would be highly dangerous. Before, it was unintentional: stumbling across danger at the most awkward time possible, then having Dune rescue me as if I was the damsel in distress! (I was not the damsel in distress!) Now, however, I was seeking it; actually going out of my way to write about our remarkable discoveries together. I was actually certain I would probably find my way to the tip of some hunter’s pointy sword. After already experiencing this tale that I’m about to unravel to you, I can say that Younger-Dandelion was not wrong! I paced around the fish-market, saying hello to my fellow friends and frantically buying provisions for the journey. I juggled around taverns experiencing the finest ales before I became immediately stripped of them that evening. I heard word from Geralt of Rivia, simply asking me if I was fairing well in Novigrad, and that he’d just left Kaer Morhen in search of a contractor who was looking for some peculiar amulets, or something (I didn’t really pay attention.) Then I stressfully waited until it was almost midnight, with my notes, parchment and journals in hand, before wandering out…  
The sweet air of the city was crisp and strict. Echoes of my breath hung like relaxed clouds in front of my face. Choking smells of burning plagued the streets, finding their way from the nearby houses, up the chimneys or the windows and leaking onto the silent air. I swiftly walked around the plentiful splotches of Redanians that paced the cobblestones, and pardoned my way through busy civilians, carrying baskets of items or wielding knives against their hidden sleeves waiting for the right citizen to come by to unintentionally volunteer as their personal stabbing sack. I made my way across the crumbling bridge and… there he was. Wasn’t hard to spot him. He was the only one in my view with a horse and a suspiciously calm silhouette.  
“Well, we meet again.” He said as I grew closer. He maintained his cheery tone despite his barbaric nature and familiarity with the handle of a sword. Sweat proceeded from his forehead, glittering in the moonlight, whilst his long, streaking black beard (which had been noticeably trimmed since the last time I saw him) flickered in the breezy air like the leaves off of trees. He had both hands rustling inside a satchel strapped to the side of the mare, but immediately retreated them to make way for a pat on my back.  
“Indeed.” I returned. We exchanged stares for an unusually long amount of time.  
“Why?” I asked.  
“Why what?”  
“Why did you invite me back here?” My words rung in the subtle atmosphere, and I thought of before. His only mission was to get me back safely, and now he wanted to bring me back into it. I’m not complaining, of course! I love the idea of exploring the unknown and unveiling it to every single person I know. It’s exciting!  
“I couldn’t resist. I see potential.” I’m certain I saw a pinprick of happiness in his crystal blue eyes, which he noticed and then immediately looked away into the distance to hide it. “Is a life meaningful if you don’t risk your life for the things you love?” He had a valid point. I smiled, looking down at my feet.   
“Thank you.” I mumbled. I was in his debt. I couldn’t have possible wandered out into all sorts of danger to document the things I’d love to experience, but now I have Dune. Experienced killer (unfortunately, I guess) but good protector all the same. The only thing he gained from this was a clumsy idiot following him around a lot, which continued to spark the question of ‘why?’.  
“It might be dangerous.” He turned back to look at me, warning me in a grave tone. I nodded like a nervous child, accepting the risk. “Let’s do this.” He mounted the horse and welcomed me to join behind him, on the same horse. How it managed both our weight combined, I’ll never know.  
“So where exactly are we going?” I’m going to be honest, I was expecting to ride off into the wilderness, and thus document the strange things of the world that nobody really sees. However, Dune had other plans. To my immediate surprise, he had steered the horse back into Novigrad; swerving around corners and flinging townspeople out of the way! I had to shout in order for him to pay attention to me (rather than actually hear me over the clattering of the horse hooves.)  
“You’ll see!” His mischievous grin replied.  
Before I knew it I was staring at a boat that had just come into harbour.  
“Are you kidding me.” I think even Dune noticed it was more of a shocked expression than an actual question. I had brushed down the muck from my suit and laid down my tiny brown bag to the side, resting on a box. Dune wandered off to talk to some locals, then returned a moment later. Meanwhile, dockhands and privateers rummaged through the port like tiny, angry ants going about their day. I asked him what we were doing here.  
“You’re the one who wanted this!” he exclaimed in a humorous voice as if to say ‘there’s no turning back now!’ “It’ll be fun!”  
“Hm.” We both briefly looked away. The now rising sunlight charred the wooden boards and stone across the city. Chatters hid within the convoluted streets, and the red brick of the housing complemented the heat like a ferocious blaze. I lost count at the amount of times I had to wipe the sweat off my forehead, yet, astonishingly, Dune hadn’t done it once since we got off the horse.  
Suddenly, after what seemed like an eternity of chatting to locals, our ears stood up like alert animals as the rather dull-looking captain of the ship started shouting all around just before Dune pat me on the back and dragged me up.  
“Right, that’s our cue!” he chuckled.   
“We’re not actually doing this, are we?” I exclaimed in shock. We were actually doing this.  
I was nervous, I admit. I didn’t bring my sea legs with me. I tried to hide to fact that I was actually shitting myself on the inside. We boarded the creaking structure, and the bridge became knocked off and onto the pier. We were off. “Don’t worry.” Dune said, “It’s all paid for; you and me.” He cheekily winked at me before rummaging off to talk with people on the ship.  
*  
“I’m actually quite concerned. Where are we going? What if we cannot make it back? What if…” I began to shout to Dune amongst the wailing of the waves and the sails.  
“Don’t be! It’ll be fine.” He talked back. He seemed so relaxed; definitely not the cautious man from before, eyeing behind his shoulder at every opportunity. By this point, we had been on this boat for a few days and I’d thrown up enough times to be unable to count them on both hands, and there was no land to be seen amidst the thick fog and the wild sea. Sighing, he turned back to me. We were idly standing on the deck; men rushing around us carrying spindles of netting and boxes of freshly hooked fish, screaming and shouting cheerfully as they hurry about their business. It was surprising how much they stank! Not to be rude, but I literally had to almost choke myself to dissipate the smell. “Look,” he started, softly grabbing my arm in an attempt to comfort me, “we are only heading out of the continent! This is going to be different – and twice as exciting!” he added enthusiastically. “It’ll only take a day, now. I promise!” He wandered off again (he has a habit of doing that at random moments.)  
I struggled. It was in the middle of nowhere, and the only feeling of company was the vivid sense of other people’s soaked clothing and greasy monotonous food! I’m not saying the presence of food is a bad thing, but you know what I mean. Along the journey, I met this seemingly shy fellow named Will. I must say, don’t let his appearance fool you! He had a timid body structure, with black, curly locks coiled within a piece of vibrant, red cloth around his head, and his almost-luminous green eyes. However he managed to contain double the confidence as one of those brutes you see on the dim Novigrad alleys! He approached me one lunchtime, amidst the rocking of the ship and creaking of the wailing floorboards. He lumped down right next to me and immediately smiled.  
“You eating that fish?” he roared brightly. He nudged me and, before I could even answer, he took it from my plate and started chomping on it like a wild creature. I let it slide for now; I must’ve been so desperate for someone else to talk to. I nodded slightly and kept my face blank and cryptic.  
“So…”  
“Will!” he said.  
“Nice to meet you… Will. My name’s –“  
“Dandelion!” He looked mid-twenties, but had this quirky attitude of a ten year-old. Munching of my remaining parts of my food, I asked him how he knew. “You get a lot of talk around the cabins!” he started, “We laugh at you for your incompetence to walk steady on the deck.” He leaned into me for a whisper, “It is kinda funny!” I chuckled with him before silence engulfed the conversation for a small period of time.  
“So, you’re a pirate, then?” I tried for anything to give me leverage in the conversation, however the moment he stuck a knife to my throat was the moment I had regretted it.  
“Absolutely not!” he barked loudly, but not loud enough for anyone else to hear – or for anyone to pay attention I guess. “I’m a privateer. There’s a difference.” I held my hands up in surrender as he withdrew the knife and chuckled. “I’m only kidding!” he said before running off to tamper with something else.  
“Okay then.”  
Land was in sight. I’m pretty sure I saw it before anyone else (yes, I was that desperate.) Sand guarded the forest-like structure, clashing against the water. I took excited gasps before immediately dashing to my room to gather my notes and journals.  
“Sail ho!” Shit. Those words, chorused by multiple men above me, vibrated the ship before explosions and splinters of wood shattered around me. Dropping everything, I rushed to the surface to see what was happening. Ships. Multiple attackers surrounded our own. Smoke rose from the sea like plumes of grey matter from a fire. Metal shots zoomed past our heads and some into the ship itself, allowing passage of gushing floods through the structure. Deafening periods of silence followed bursts of sound as blazes of yellow inflicted upon all three ships. Us, and our two hostiles.  
“Dandelion!” I heard Dune shout. I couldn’t see him, for all I saw were our own people dashing around with drawn swords, and those same people crying blood by my feet. “Get inside!” The boat rocked heavily, in time with my panicked heartbeat. I stumbled around, tripping over bodies and collecting water in the bottom of my boots. I managed to get into the depths of the ship, however water was already up to my knees, and still rising. I slammed my cabin door open, searching for anything to use for a weapon. The shouts and screams grew numbingly quiet, muffled through the water and the power of the shots from our invaders. The last thing I saw before I propelled out of the gaping hole in the side of the ship, and into the open water, was Will’s body, bloody and limp, lying dead in the corner of the room.  
*  
My eyes struggled to pry themselves open. My first senses consisted of wet sand on most sides of my face, drenched clothing weighing me down, and a steel sword pressing against my throat. I startled myself awake, backing my body away into a tree as my vision slowly became more vivid. Dune.  
“Did I scare ya?” he sheathed his sword and gave me a helping hand from the ground.  
“That’s not funny! We could’ve died and you’re playing jokes?” I started to brush off the sand and clean my face, however I was certain I was just making it worse.  
“Well we made it to our destination, didn’t we?” he seemed too relax for this situation; relishing the moment like a fine ale rather than assessing it seriously. Combating the grains of sand on my crimson clothing like a tiny, insignificant war, I looked at him more carefully – studying his expressions. “Look, I’m only trying to lighten the mood. I know this is a pretty fucked situation, but look on the bright side! You wanted adventure, you got adventure.” Did I want adventure? I wasn’t sure anymore. With no sure way back home and no food to secure our stomachs, we were effectively stranded. Shit.


	2. Mystery

Forest leaves bloomed wildly around us. The dense orchards and clusters of trees watched us as we waltzed on by in wet and worn clothing. We brushed past extravagant flowers; pink and light blue, and lots of other tropical colours I didn’t even know where to begin to describe. Vibrant strands of grass shimmered in the wind, and occasionally became trampled by the soft leather of our boots. In the distance, the gloomy darkness behind the trunks of wood oozed into one long strand of curiosity, as if anything could be behind it; waiting to pounce at any given opportunity.  
“What are we going to do? Wander until we stumble across some blankets?” I muttered sarcastically. Dune scoffed at my remark whilst using his dagger to push his way through the thick, reluctant branches. We had been travelling for an hour or two, judging from the position of the sun in the sky (and my slowly deteriorating will to live). Meanwhile, I feebly followed him in my rather conspicuous apparel, stumbling over roots and unexpected unevenness in the muddy ground.  
“I think, Dandelion…” he started, glancing back and forth as if he were mapping the terrain in his head; studying hard at the lines in the landscape. “we should keep going inland.” Rolling my eyes (and hoping he didn’t notice), I steered from Dune’s newly made path to yank a loose branch from a hedge. I struggled, sweat clutching my forehead, but it finally came loose. Unintendedly, I had thrown my body into the back of a large stump due to the sudden detachment.  
“Stop right there!” That wasn’t Dune’s voice. Whoever it was, he was close. I carefully shuffled round. The man was normal size (about half the size of Dune and double the size of me!), and had his bow pointed at Dune. I sharply inhaled and hoped he didn’t hear me, covering my mouth immediately. He had his back turned to me.  
“Woah, steady.” Dune held up his hands in surrender, his dagger thumping harmlessly into the dirt. He kept his eyes steady on the invader’s poised arrow. “Whatever you’re thinking of doing with that bow, don’t do it.”  
“Shut it.” The man said blankly. He shuffled closer to Dune, his bow drawn further. Dune had shuffled too; minute steps away from him, to no avail except for backing into a tree.  
And that was when I whacked him over the head with a branch.

“Shit.” He muttered to himself. Everything happened at once. I had fallen to the ground after the man retaliated, Dune had rushed towards him, somehow dodging the arrow (digging its way into the tree behind him) and fought the man. It seems I missed slightly when I made my move. The attacker quickly recovered, and now we both sat feebly on the ground with a replaced, seemingly sharper arrowhead pointed to our foreheads – maybe that was because I was now in the spotlight that I noticed the sparkle of the metal.  
“Are you kidding me?” Dune muttered under his breath before he spat in the ground beside him. We spent the next few minutes being tied up by the man, however I had clear view of him now, and, as you may have predicted, I studied his appearance carefully (while half being nudged awkwardly into a bush). He had pure black hair, a short and recently shaven beard, and crystal blue eyes. He looked extremely young and fit which complemented his vivid experience in combat. He had metal woven between his leather tunic, and a hood which fluttered in the tense wind, resting on his shoulders.  
He had bunched Dune and I tightly together, and once he made certain we were strapped like helpless animals, he relaxed slightly. Dropping his bow gently on the cluttered, overgrown hilly patch, he dashed around silently and started producing some sort of campfire in the middle of the clearing.  
“Stay here.” He said, warning us with piercing eyes and a bow which showed no mercy. He picked up his trusty weapon and left the area, leaving us to breathe a little easier.  
He had barely left before Dune had devised a plan. It was completely absurd, and at the time I had thought he’d gone completely mad.  
“Stab me, Dandelion.” He whispered before pointing at his own dirty dagger that crashed to the ground moments before, lying at my feet and disguised behind grains of leaves and dirt. I glared at him with my jaw reaching the floor.  
“I’m sorry?” he refused to meet my gaze and instead started clearing a patch by his body for the dagger to be inserted. “I…I…” I honestly couldn’t think of a reason why he’d want me to do it. I got the impression his mind wasn’t all on me; my words dissipating into a brick wall.  
“Right here.” Pointing to a space on his lower back, nudging slightly to the side – and struggling due to his tied wrists.  
“I don’t think this is a very good idea.”  
“Just trust me.” So I did it. I slid the dagger from my feet to my bound hands, and I stabbed him. The gap I had made gushed red, almost as fast as my heartbeat. “Now hide the blade.” I did that too. He spent the next few minutes wincing in pain and struggling to keep a good posture. His blood plagued his clothing a deep red and I sat there wondering whether I had just killed him.  
Our captor returned with a few dead animals attached to his belt, swinging across his back like some sort of decorative accessory. More dead seconds passed and I sat there like a stump, unknowing of what to do. The man struck flint and cast a bright light, starting to skin the rabbit. Everything he did came smoothly, clearly experienced at his craft. Then Dune began to cough; one after the other after the other, distracting the man.  
“Oh shit, you’re bleeding.” He said.  
“It’s nothing, honestly.” Dune replied, but the man dropped his bow and rushed to gaze at the wound. Moving so swift, as if he were going to get into trouble, that he managed to halt everything he was doing just to look at the gaping hole in his side.  
“You’re bleeding.” He repeated in a much more worried tone, “severely.” He pushed Dune and fiddled with the patch of blood. “We need to get you somewhere safe.” In an instant, he cut his bounds and lifted him. “Up.” He ordered me, waving his dagger. I stood and had an injured Dune flying my way. “Carry him.” He stomped the fire out and told us to follow his lead back into the tangled forest. Whilst adjusting the now weak body at my side, I asked him his name.  
“You first.” He replied, gaze ahead – moving stealthily and strategically, clearing a way for us who were stumbling behind him.  
“I’m Dandelion. This is Dune.” Despite his pain and pained eyes, he nodded a sign of gratitude, smiling slightly.  
“Hunter.” He said. “Name’s Hunter.”  
*  
We seemed to startle the birds as we walked, fluttering beautifully in the noon sky. It felt like we’d walked for hours and Dune was growing heavier and heavier. Hunter had used his own weaponry to clear a path for us. His actions proved strange considering we were bound at his feet not too long ago. Twigs and sticks snapped in the distance.  
“Do you hear that?” Hunter whispered, drawing his bow.  
“What?” I replied, struggling with the few hundred tons of weight poking at my shoulder. My worry for my friend amplified in the back of my mind, “It’s only twigs breaking!”  
“Exactly. Since when do twigs break in the forest?” He said in a peculiar tone (sending shivers up my spine), and with almost perfect timing. Not a moment later had a shard flung past my head and into a tree beside me. “Bandits!” Shit. Hunter crashed to the ground before crouching behind a stump. Berserker screams and rustling leaves sent a Nekker-load more shivers up me as I dropped Dune and ducked for cover, cowering behind a stump. I whispered an apology to Dune as he cried in agony, grasping his wound. Arrows flung, bodies fell. Only a few remained.  
“Dandelion, do something!” Hunter roared. What the fuck was I supposed to do? Another fell to Hunter’s arrowhead. One bandit toppled on top of the archer, giving him the advantage, punching Hunter in the chest several times. Squirms of struggle shook the forest air, and panic pulsed in my blood.  
I slid the point of Dune’s sword into the man’s throat before he gurgled to the floor. Moments later, warm blood still leaked from the corpses like spitting animals. We moved on, not saying a word.  
*  
“Here we are.” Hunter pointed out in a much more relaxed tone. We were emerging from the forest an into the clearing, and I heard voices.  
“Ah, thank the Gods.” I sighed, “This isn’t what I imagined as a ‘safe trip out’, Dune!” I chuckled slightly, trying to lighten the mood. I shook him slightly; prying a response from him. Nothing came. Sliding off my shoulder, he crashed unconsciously to the ground. “Dune? Oh fuck, Hunter.” He turned and acted before I had. Ahead of us I later realised was a village, and that was Hunter’s destination. I heard him calling for a medic whilst I helped drag my ally to the gates, blood marking the ground.  
“Stop! State your name and reason.” A woman’s voice crackled behind me as I tugged at the limp body. I stopped, carefully placed Dune down as quickly as I dared and stared towards the speaker. The woman stood not two feet in front of me. Her face screamed decades as each movement seemed to creak with her age. Grey hair streamed from her head and down the side of her face. She stood tall; towering me, blocking the Sun from my eyes and casting her shadow upon me. Hunter had already passed the gate, and blended into the crowds of people that stared at me. All eyes burned my skin.  
“Please. This man needs help.”  
“State your name and reason.” She repeated harshly.  
“Dandelion. This man needs help! For fuck’s sake…” I whispered under my breath, hoping she didn’t hear. She stared at me for a long time with this stern expression, unknowing that with each second blood oozed from my friend. Finally, she spoke.  
“Get them inside.” I thanked her profusely. Immediately, guards I didn’t recognise appeared from thin air, picking Dune up swiftly then seemingly losing themselves in the village. They didn’t wear a crest or any noticeable armour. Instead, they wore simple leather clothing and a sword at their belts. The woman greeted me to come forward.  
“Cebri.” Throwing me her hand, she greeted me a thick, welcoming smile, “Welcome.”  
“Dandelion.” I coughed back at her, trying to hide my heavy breaths of panic and shaking her hand. “Nice to meet you.”  
The village wasn’t particularly rich with supplies or defences. Their wall only consisted of high wooden spikes, collated in a messy, wonky fashion. Inside, wooden houses dotted the large plain. Smoke bled elegantly from the chimneys. Crows littered the air, swirling atop the thatched rooves and amongst the thick, dull grey sky. On the ground, various white-leafed trees sat erected from the uneven ground, swaying in the light breeze. Additionally, wooden equipment such as wagons and lopsided crates cluttered the pathways, making myself dodge them carefully like avoiding a drowner (not that I know what avoiding a drowner feels like). Finally, townsfolk rummaged through the scattered village, doing daily tasks and occasionally throwing me a glare of suspicion. I couldn’t tell whether our appearance sparked excitement from their mundane tasks, or fear from their safety. Hunter was nowhere to be seen.  
“I need to see my friend.” I demanded Cebri. Realising it was probably a bit harsh, I merged it into a polite question. “Please?”  
“Very well. Over there.” I thanked her profusely.  
*  
I entered a dank and dimly lit cellar. I had just reached the marble floor from the seemingly hundreds of steps I’d just clambered down, and I was greeted with a large, empty room with the exception of a few beds and, thus, patients. A fireplace sat in the middle, in the centre of a carved space at the base of a white, stone pillar. Candles sat at tables, emitted an unhelping light and making me bump into a few things accidently. My every step conjured innocent squeaks against the flawless floor, and I stared into the abyss for Dune.  
“In here.” A voice I failed to recognise called from the nothingness, amidst the coughing and splattering of others. I darted to the room it called from. Entering a smaller, more confined room, Dune lie fidgeting on a bed in the centre, sweat everywhere to be seen, and a doctor, with glasses upon his nose, calmly grabbed medical equipment and analysed the wound I had made for him.  
“Dune! Are you alright?” He replied with a hellish scream, shaking the world. I clutched his arm.  
“What did this to him?” The doctor croaked.  
“A bandit.” Fuck, I hope he was going to be alright. I couldn’t bare it if he didn’t make it – I couldn’t think about that right now. “Is he-“  
“He might not make it; the weapon made by this was placed precisely into a few major capillaries. The attacker must’ve been highly intelligent. In addition, it may get infected.”  
“Just do something!” I wailed before profusely apologising. He looked up at me.  
“You should go.” His words rung out like a hot brand smelting the air. I did as he said and left, shaking from my worry and trying to let it slide from my mind. Whatever it was, it didn’t allow me to forget the terror of what could happen to him. What I did to him could cost him his life.


	3. Beginnings

I don’t think I’ll ever forget that feeling of finally hitting the softness of the bed as I thumped down on it that evening. Springs supporting my limp, knackered body, and my brain drifting off to a safe haven of dream-state; conjuring pink, fluffy unicorns and infinite plains of dancing women as far as the eye could see… Of course, that isn’t what I dream about. Obviously; that was just an example… I’m being honest!  
In any case, what does it matter? Here I was. Hunter, my captor in the woods, had retreated into who-knows-where in the village, and Dune lie restful in the medical rooms. At least I hoped he was restful; I worried for him. I could not imagine how much pain he was in. The doctor said in a grave tone that it may well become infected, and have a high certainty of not making it through the next couple of days. Just to prevent us being tied up anymore. What was I thinking?

That night, the previous evening, I was led to “my chambers”. A young girl whose name I did not catch fidgeted with the handle of the old wooden door and begged me to enter kindly. In it lie the bed, of course (It’s honestly one of the best beds I’ve ever slept on, trust me), and other items which were only barely visible thanks to the few rich, dense candles enclosed in tinted glass containers, leaking a blood-like red across the large, open space. Fruit and small chests lie organised on low tables, and elegant goblets sat in pattern and symmetry across other table tops. Candlesticks weighed down both ends of the mantelpiece above the warm fire that glowed vibrantly in the far side of the room, sometimes harmlessly spitting upwards with a satisfying pop. I thought I’d just walked into another world; the room composed such contrast to the poor, indigent spaces outside. It was nice here.  
“Here is the key to your room.” The girl said as if she was reading from a script. “I will leave it here. Every night, we lock all the rooms as a safety precaution but, with this, you can leave at your will.” She placed the well-worn key down beside the bowl of fruit on the table with a clunk. “Be wary,” her young voice deepened, “Though I’m sure you do not doubt the high fence enclosed around the perimeter, monsters are fickle and may still pose a danger. We recommend staying in your room after dark.”  
“Thank you.”  
“No problem, Mister Dandelion.” She bowed with a thick, almost forced smile before swiftly leaving. I was out seconds after my head hit the pillow.  
*  
“So who are you?” I asked before crunching into an apple. Hunter looked up at me, smiled thinly, then continued sharpening his sword, presumably in thought. I adjusted my seating on the stool and took a moment to look about the village. Everyone seemed happy, I thought. Birds tweeting away above building simultaneously to the townsfolk laughing cheerfully and occasionally chatting to others whilst walking down paths carrying baskets of items.  
“I’m Hunter.”  
“Well I know that! I mean who are you?”  
“I’d rather not talk too much about my background.” He was abrupt and slightly introverted, I noticed that. Perhaps he was too used to being quiet in the wilderness; sneaking about with his bow for something he could pluck his arrow into and string on his waist.  
“Oh… What about your family?” My attempt to squeeze conversation succeeded. Sighing slightly, he spoke.  
“My parents are dead. Passed away a few years back. Killed in a house fire in the middle of nowhere, leaving me, the only survivor, to find safety. Only then did I take up archery – thought I needed to teach myself how to hunt independently.” He looked to the ground as if shame or guilt weighed on his shoulders. “Then I met Enneoll. We discovered each other when walking the path. We crossed. As you can imagine, bows were drawn. We’d never seen each other before so obviously that was what we did. Little did I know we became best buddies. He hunted too; we spent days in the woods, racing to who could catch the first rabbit. Good times.” He chuckled slightly before blending into sadness; his mind in another place. “Then he got shot. An arrow right here.” He pointed to his own shoulder blade, looking up at me. “We were in the woods at the time, and I scrambled to the nearest town we could find, desperate. Turns out to be this place.” Silence consumed him. I didn’t interfere – we both sat in thought. “He didn’t make it.”  
He began to polish his bow, preciously modifying it and handling it like a new-born child. “At first I was rejected from this place. They said I wasn’t welcome here; not after bringing a wounded person into the area and making their lives a lot harder. But then they saw I had a bow and was good at hunting, so they let me stay as long as I got food for them.”  
“Sounds really rough.” I supported him. I realise now why he was so determined to help Dune.  
“So yeah. That’s my story.”  
“Hunter!” Cebri has arrived seemingly from nowhere, and called him away. For a second I thought I saw him blink tears from his eyes quickly so she wouldn’t notice. He stood up, apologised to me and left with her.  
“I have something for you…” Their voices dissolved with the rest of the voices and I was left with my own thoughts.  
*  
I had the afternoon to myself so I decided to visit the blacksmith. He was a dwarf. His brown, messy beard astonishingly almost touching the muddy, mundane ground like tiny fingertips. He was tinkering with the forge, which occasionally flared-up vigorously; an untamed cat spitting, full of hatred. I gazed at his beard (the biggest, thickest beard I think I’ve ever gazed upon) before snapping out of trance and walking up to him. I actively stayed away from the forge in worry that it’d spit at me and burn my clothes.  
“Uh… Hi” I stumbled.  
“Hello!” He replied surprisingly quickly. Turning from his task, he crossed his arms wildly and greeted me with a powerful grin hidden within his tufts of beard. “How may I assist you?” Silence wavered for a long time before I conjured up what to say.  
“I’m Dandelion, by the way.” I thrust my arm and open hand in his direction, to which he responded agreeably. “I’m just peculiar about forgery and…you know, this stuff.”  
“Would you like weapons…armour?”  
“No, no! Definitely not. Just…tell me about your craft.” I politely inclined. He nodded and turned back to his hot spike of metal.  
“I’m Shrorcla Trugack, but people call me Shor. I realised the full name is a bit too… complex.” He laughed. I grabbed a dagger from the table, but Shor’s hand snapped to my wrist, holding me threateningly tight. “Ah. No weapons allowed by citizens. Policy, I’m afraid.” I tugged my arm loose and pulled my way from his friendly yet contrasting smile to his action. I nodded, not saying anything as he carried on. Security was unusually tight.  
After long periods of time absorbed in forgery, I suddenly realised dusk had emerged over the horizon, the tinted orange oozing over the village. I swiftly said my goodbye to Shor and decided to go for some evening food.  
*  
Breaching the door to the inn – The Crossed Candles – I was smacked with the warm comforting feel of warm ale and pleasantness of the food served here. Small flames flickered vibrantly off the ends of candles, seemingly scattered at every given opportunity around the interior, my body shaking comfortably at the sudden contrast from the cold, evening air to the cosiness of the tavern. I slowly avoided the populated areas; narrowly squeezing through eating townsfolk, jumping out of the way from reckless drunkards who swung about the place carelessly like large predatory animals, and finally sitting down at the rare slice of seating at the end of one of the long tables that stretched almost as wide as the room itself. Other tables littered the room, to which the people here gracefully took their seats and dug in to the boiling stew in bowls in their hands. I sighed after recalling the long exhausting lecture Shor gave me this afternoon. An uncertainty tugged at my sleeve; how jumpy Shor was when I even got close to those weapons…  
“What can I get you, my love?” the innkeeper winked at me.  
“Just… what they’re having, thanks.” I replied pointing to the others at my table. Big, bulky men jesting whilst spilling their drinks all over; I couldn’t help but try to retreat further from them to prevent them from spilling it all over me!  
I have to admit my confidence had been knocked slightly. Dune’s illness plagued my thoughts like a curse had been set upon my wellbeing. Instead of being the bubbly, extroverted person I am usually, I spent most of my time staring into space and breaking a sweat over merely thinking about his absence. He was still stuck in the doctor’s basement, healing from the wound I made. I made it my task to see him later, before curfew.  
“There.” A bowl materialised in front of me, making me plunge from my thoughts as I dived into the real world once again. She smiled at me, wrinkles creaking.  
“Wow! That was… quick; thank you.”  
“Don’t mention it.” She was abruptly cut off from her train of thought as someone approached. I looked up. A man, angry eyed, returned the favour and glared down at me. He had this physically aggressive figure, cumbersome and blocking out the light behind him, branding his shadow on me. He wore a sword on his belt; a guard off duty. I could smell his tainted breath on my skin.  
“Hey, you!” The room shook as his voice emitted, simultaneously hushing all other voices. Spit emerged from within his short beard and onto my boots. His black, slick hair wavered, taunting my movements. “You don’t belong here, outsider. Why don’t you do us all a favour and leave?” He proceeded with a cocky stride around me. I stood tall, hoping he wouldn’t notice the fear inside me.  
“Excuse me, you shouldn’t talk to people like that.” I muttered. His eyes growled through mine; a warning to back off. My squeaky voice winced under his weight. In an instance, he swept my own stew off the table and onto my clothes, melting them from crimson to a depressing brown. I quickly backed into a wall in shock. Others chorused a jolt of confusion too.  
“Tugna!” A voice towered over all others. He turned away from me. Cebri. “Stop that right now! Leave at once.” He did as he was told, leaving me one more smirk as he waltzed out the door.  
“Thank you.” I said. Cebri came to me and held my arm softly.  
“Sorry about that. Let’s get you cleaned up.”  
*  
Wearing new apparel (yet an extremely dull colourless set), I left my chambers. I carefully headed down the interior stairs of the multiple story building and headed outside again. Wearing thinner clothing, the cold, biting air was immediately apparent. I shivered, making small steps towards the door to the medical basement. Approaching the guard who’s face I couldn’t see, I spoke.  
“I’m here to see Dune.”  
“I’m afraid you can’t.” He spoke in a harsh voice. A voice I recognised…  
“I just need to!” I replied just as harsh. I needed to see him.  
“Because I said so.” He lifted his helmet. Tugna. Are you fucking kidding me? Tugna was the person in charge of medical? I suddenly retreated a few steps, buckling feebly under his stare. Tears struck my eyes, to which I swiftly paced back to my room to avoid him seeing my fear. Yet I had this strange feeling he knew already.  
That night I lie on my bed. Curfew had been present a few hours now, and the whole village was smothered by silence. In the dimness of my candle, I fiddled with the bronze key to my chambers carelessly at the same time as I pondered over my choice. I could head out now – use the key, and sneak to the medical area. I needed to see if Dune was alright. However, I was held by this anxious feeling. Though it wasn’t illegal to be outside during the evening, if I went in any buildings without specific permission, there would be trouble. Additionally, if Tugna caught me, I’d probably be half dead with a smashed-in face. Hours sat fighting. Do I go? Do I wait?  
I waited. I came to the conclusion that sneaking out was a terrible idea. Sighing like I was disappointed with my own coward-ness, I set the key down at my bedside and went to sleep.


	4. Who?

Another day. Another day trapped in this kind prison. Well, not trapped, but my only way back home is Dune, and he’s still nowhere to be seen! Reluctantly crawling out of bed, I dragged myself to get ready for the day ahead. My door handle stopped me for a brief moment, but it was enough. Fingertips hovering over the metal. Standing there for so long, paralysed, wondering what the day would present to me. Would it be kind? Or would I be in for a shit time with Tugna constantly breathing down my neck? Where was Dune? Where the fuck was Hunter? I felt like I had been tricked into a false sense of security, as if there was something going on here that I didn’t understand. I closed my eyes firmly and grasped the handle, the familiar sensation flooding back to me. I almost plucked the surface, hoping it would make that familiar twang of a lute string. Sighing; disappointment oozing from within me once again, I built the courage and pushed.

It was dark this morning. Thunder shattered over the village, smothering us, enclosing us. I strapped my crimson on tight in defence from the bitter wind and the shards of rain that seemingly pierced my eyes and my skin. Exiting the building, I tried to slowly close the door behind me, but the fickle gusts took care of that for me – smashing shut violently as if everything I touched turned against me. I struggled my way to the medical ward; Tugna, that filthy coward, was only on duty in the evening, so hopefully... hopefully…  
“I wish to enter, please.” I pleaded in a tone too similar to the weather. “I need to see someone.” Two guards stood either side of the small, battered wooden door. One looked half asleep whilst the other looked as if he’d just been struck with lightning; vigilant and alert. He was the one who replied from underneath his cold, unmoving face.  
“Dune, is it?” he spat, “Yes, we’ve heard, and no, you cannot.” He mocked me. I saw his tiny smirk from underneath his cracked lips. He tried hard to retain his guard-like tone, but there was no denying he found satisfaction in my disappointment.  
“Why not?” I growled.  
“What does it matter? You’re not coming in, either way. Now, shoo.” He treated me like I was dirt under his shoe, or an unwanted pest at his feet. I was powerless. Everybody here was siphoning my rights. What was going on down there?  
Time to put an end to it. Furious, I marched further down the village, following the well-trodden path through wooden houses and to Cebri’s main ‘headquarters’, I suppose. She was the leader here, and I was told this is where she spends most of her time. Gradually approaching, I stared eagerly at the hut. It was identical to the others. The roof was thatched with straw, and uneven logs supported the exterior. It was a tiny, just like the others. How come a village so penniless be so secure, and so overprotective with rules? Two identical looking guards stood at the entrance to the door, as if the two I had just met had quickly ran to my destination as an act to amuse me; like a play, I being the audience.  
“I want… need to see Cebri.” I hissed to the guard. By this point, I had had enough. I was getting in there.  
“I’m sorry, Mister…” he stared innocently at me. I filled in my name. “Mister… Dandelion, but Cebri is currently indisposed.”  
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Maybe what I was about to do was out of line, but cutting the rope between Dune and I was too out of line. Grabbing a tuft of an old woman’s hair, I held her in front of me and threatened to use violence. Staring, piercing the guard’s eyes, I shouted.  
“You will let me see her, or I will do something I am almost certainly going to regret!” I lied. Or was I? Would I really do what was necessary to get what I wanted? Others had started to gather round. By this point, a second version of me had materialised beside me, a blue essence fading around it.   
“What do you think you’re doing?” he said, oddly calm and in a ghostly tone.  
“I need to see my friend.” The real me replied. His expression remained the same, as if no remark could ever surprise him.  
“Does he really mean that much to you? What’s stopping you from making your own way back to Novigrad, Hmm?” I scoffed. I wouldn’t survive an hour, unless I wrote the creatures of the forest a poem to bore them as I snuck away.  
“Don’t be so ridiculous!”  
“What about Hunter? He seems well-equipped to take you-“  
“Will you shut up?!” I took a knife from my pocket and threw it at my own apparition. He disappeared. What remained was me standing here grabbing this poor woman, the guards staring – startled, and the non-existent knife I just threw dissipating with a bluey hue.  
My body was possessed by this horrific act, like some other person was controlling my actions like some sort of nasty puppet, grasping by limbs by threads of string. I was twisted. I almost let her go and apologised, but no – I had to get my point across. I held her tighter as she squirmed in my arms.  
“Alright, alright. Fine. Let her go!” he said. I did so. I let the poor woman go and she threw me a sharp glare, running off wildly. I was as relieved myself as the others around me. “Cebri!” the guard called monotonously. She opened the door and hushed me inside, eyes of fire. Turns out guards were liars too. I tried to hold my head up high, but the eyes glued to me weighed me down and I hung my head in shame.  
“What in the world was that?” she hissed at me. I took a seat, which consequently shook the ground as it creaked beneath my force.  
“I’m sorry.” I said weakly, “I just needed to get your attention.”  
“And what for, huh? Go on! What do you want?” She stood in the darkest corner of the room, yet her furious expressions were light as day.  
“I need to see Dune. Why can’t I see him?” As soon as the words slid from my tongue she turned away, like she was trying to hide something. Her wrinkles cracked under her slow movements whilst she hiked carefully to the strategically placed bureau in the corner of the tiny room.  
“I’m afraid-“  
“That I cannot see him. Yes, yes, I’ve heard it too many times.” I interrupted. “Listen,” I continued, leaning forward in my chair, “the last time I saw him, he had a stab wound in his side, with him screaming into my ear in agony. I sat beside him, worried shitless for his safety. I came with him to this place and my only way home is with him, so effectively, without him, this naïve village is really a prison!” I shocked the room silent after my raised voice, like the calm after a storm.  
“Dandelion, I can assure you he is safe in the medical ward.” She said quickly, tossing her words across the battleground beneath our feet. She was stern like a rock in a wild sea, and I was the ship; buckling under the crashing waves.  
“Right, then it’s time I left.” I didn’t want to speak to her anymore. I had had enough. She touched my shoulder softly; calmer than a few minutes ago.  
“Don’t do what you did on your way in, or you’ll soon regret it.” Her remark jabbed sharply up my spine. A clear warning. All heart-warming words she had spoken to me before had gone out the window. Our relationship was dissolved. I walked out of the room.  
Hunter came back from his trip. He walked heavily through the entrance, with sweat on his brow – with people huddled around, occasionally patting him on the back in thanks. Others wandering nearby, watching from a distance. He had a rack of animals bouncing lively at his chest, yet as lifeless as the darkness – cold and absent. You could almost choose from them; so many corpses. I caught him as he walked my way.  
“Hunter.”  
“Ah, Dandelion. How are you?” I ignored his question.  
“I need a favour.” My voice dissolved into a whisper. He stopped, gazing at me more seriously than before. “I need you to distract Tugna somehow this evening.”  
“You are not planning to sneak in tonight?” he returned, in a further hushed voice, shocked at my request.  
“I just need a distraction. That filth of a man will do anything in his path to stop me, and I need him out of the way.” He stared into the distance for a long time, juggling decisions.  
“Fine. He won’t be guarding the door tonight, and neither will the other guard.”  
“Thank you!” He grabbed my arm firmly.  
“Be careful. I will only help you this once. If you get caught, things won’t end well for you.”  
“I understand. I just need to know that Dune is alright. Thanks again.”  
***  
And that’s when I did it. I waited until silence was all I could hear – no voices, no movements – then I carefully slid the key on the desk into my hand and went to the wooden, frail door. It unlocked cleanly with a satisfying click. I placed the key back down on the table; I wasn’t going to be long.  
Bracing the midnight air, I walked on the grassy plain; scared and vulnerable. Although it wasn’t strictly forbidden to be outside this time, if I went into the medical bay, there would be “serious consequences”. I had to be in and out before anyone noticed. Hunter did the favour, thankfully. The entrance was naked, unguarded. Breathing a sigh of relief, I swiftly entered, glancing behind me.  
The dark, dismal room stank the same stinking smell as the last time I entered. The last time I saw Dune. However, something was different. Something I couldn’t put my finger on until I stabbed my palm over the bottom of a waxed candle, and shoved it in front of my face for better view. The room was empty. The beds, unused. Silence larger than anyone could imagine. The murky stench of disease and death blended with the clean sterilization of all surfaces. A clean morgue. Disguised. Only my footsteps occupied the desert of a place. Nothing. Desperately looking around for the door to the small room Dune was supposedly in, I became more and more aware of my trespassing. My heart beat faster with every step I made, and sweat called at my forehead, complementing my anxiousness. There it was. The door. A few days ago, an injured Dune had entered this room, with I next to him and an almost fatal stab wound, and now I stood in front of it, the ominous steel handle begging me to open it. I don’t know how long I was standing there. I was paralysed by fear….  
As the hinges screamed and the smell of blood oozed into my nose, like a coin on your tongue – the tang, like a knife stabbing your senses, I entered. Using the candle I held in my shaking hand, I saw it. Dune wasn’t there. He wasn’t in his bed. It looked like a scenario from a hideous fairy-tale. He had vanished. All that had remained was a bed and a wooden desk, both drenched in blood. The white marble floor faded to a deep red, the operating utensils equally stained. The bed in the room was vacant; the only entity sitting there was a thick red puddle. I retreated from the room, almost vomiting on the floor. I was appalled. Sickened. Where the fuck was he? What is this? This is messed up. Something caught my eye before I considered running as far as possible from the room. A leather-bound book. It was as though it glowed in the darkness, as if I was meant to pick it up. And I did. It almost pulsed in the palm of my hand. I opened it.  
It was gibberish. It was all nonsense. What was I supposed to do with this? Shapes and circles and demonic symbols scrawled the parchment with thin reckless lines. Illegible notes… were they even notes? They were nothing. There was nothing except for lines drawn by some sort of maniac. I collapsed the book in frustration and rushed my way to the steep marble steps as quickly and quietly as I could.  
I reached my chambers, unseen. As least I thought I was unseen. I found out as I properly entered. I closed the door behind me and grabbed for the key. Nothing. What? The key was gone. Replaced was a small slit of parchment, a note. It read, “You shouldn’t have done that.” My breathing stuttered. My shaking hand put the note down. No, I burnt it in the fire. I couldn’t let anyone see it. Reaching for my bed, the air still as silent as ever, I lied down and struggled to pry my eyes closed. I didn’t sleep that night, paralysed from a simple note. Someone knew.


	5. Resolutions

I tossed and turned, sweat drenching my whole body. No spot dry. I didn’t sleep. I couldn’t sleep. Someone knew about my trespass in the medical basement. Someone knew I was looking for Dune. Someone knew what I was doing, and I didn’t know who. Who could it be? Tugna? No, he wouldn’t send a note – just a punch in the face. Cebri? Again, no. She would confront me about it. It had to be someone who wanted to be subtle. Possibly someone who didn’t want to report me straight away but instead wanted leverage for something. Who knows? I had to keep my cool, and right now I was doing a pretty poor job.  
I woke. Well, I don’t suppose I was ever asleep to call it ‘waking up’, but I got out of bed and strolled to the window. It was almost dawn. A good few hours had passed since I returned from the forbidden area, yet I hadn’t slept a wink. I stared down from my upstairs privacy. Tugna had returned to the door. I’m certain his moving lips sounded curse words behind Hunter’s back. Something like, “That fucking piece of… He tricked me.” I’m not sure; that’s what I would’ve thought he’d say. I smirked slightly. Yeah, that’s right; you didn’t stop me this time!  
I did hear a slight creak from behind me. First, it breezed past my mind. Then I realised my door was unlocked. Anything could be breathing down my neck. I sharply turned, swearing to myself. Nothing. I swore I heard something… Turning my head back to the window, Tugna lie unconscious on the muddy ground. I swore louder this time. Replaced on the vacant grassy plain was a hooded woman. Her hair bled a mysterious white hue, and she walked sternly away from Tugna’s limp body further down the street. I peered round with her, trying to catch a last glimpse before she walked out of my view. Black suit, covering most – if not all – of her body. She wore veins of green patterns on her sleeves. A sorceress? That was it, she was gone. I tried with effort to peek further, but it was futile. I just ended up with a freezing cheekbone as I pushed it harder and harder against the window. Nobody except for me saw what had happened. All buildings had their curtains drawn, and Tugna still sat there, his unconscious body snoring on the ground somehow. Do I run out there and help? No, not today. He’d done enough to grow a tumour of hatred inside me; I wasn’t helping him. He’ll stay there in the merciless cold. I walked back to my bed and pondered over what I had just seen… Strange things weighed more than the normal things. More questions grew exponentially, and even more secrets covered them from the curious askers. I shut my eyes and prayed for sleep, though I’m delighted to report than none came.

The next day, my dead, drooling corpse rose, and slid into the streets. I was tired, but I managed to keep my eyes open. Barely. As I stumbled through thin crowds, I started to feel the effects of my actions weighing down on me. When I grabbed that poor woman, I set an impression in other’s minds. Instead of a welcoming smile (which was scarce anyway), I was now avoided, as if everybody in the town contributed to making an empty bubble around me. I was greeted not with passivity, but with angry glares. Not with slow, gentle walks, but with swift pacing; like a repelling magnet.  
“Dandelion!” shouted Cebri in an overjoyed voice, startling me from my sleepy trance. I smiled and walked over. I was surprised to see her happy to see me considering yesterday’s argument, but I went along with it. She could just be an incredibly good actor…  
“Good morning, Cebri. How are you today?”  
“I’m fine, thank you.” She paused and studied my face, “My God, Dandelion you look terrible! Did you not sleep?” I gently pushed her approaching, weak hand away.  
“I’m fine honestly, just didn’t sleep.” She agreed.  
“Yeah, I can tell! Like you got up and went sleepwalking in the middle of the night!” Oh, Cebri, if only you knew… Actually, if you knew, we probably wouldn’t be having this conversation.  
“I’m just…” Careful, Dandelion; your wording here is important. “…slightly under the weather. You know, security seems a little unusual. Tugna’s got it in for me, I swear.” I chuckled slightly, meeting her gaze. “And not being able to see Dune is a little overwhelming, you know?” Her eyes seemed so sympathetic. Too sympathetic.  
“Don’t you worry. I told you, he is resting in the medical ward. We are restraining anyone from seeing him purely because he’s in critical condition. Whoever made that wound got him good.” I bit my tongue.  
“Where’s Hunter?” I asked in a peculiar tone amidst the footsteps on the mud around us in the middle of the morning breeze.  
“Never mind him, I have something to show you.” She ushered me to follow.  
I ended up in her room. The same room we had argued before. It was strange seeing her like this. I’d definitely thought she’d still be angry with me. It all seemed a little bit too theatrical, like an act waiting to turn sour.  
“I got you a little gift.” Oh my… What emerged from under her desk lie a beautiful instrument in her palms. A lute. It looked brand new, but with a thick blanket of dust over it, like an old human being reborn a baby. It looked magnificent. Patterns and strange marks layered the precious wood. “I don’t know if I should be giving this to you, but you seem to know your way around an instrument, I hope.”  
“Thank you.” I replied softly, eyes glued to the precious nooks and designs of the equipment. “How did you know?”  
“About what?”  
“That fact that I liked to play music?” She paused for a second.  
“I have my ways.” She slowly looked me up and down, observing my… florescent clothes. She laughed when my eyes met hers. I decided not to say anything.  
I left the building with my new instrument; at least this would give me something to occupy myself with. Or was this some way to create a false sense of security? Was Cebri just trying to create leverage?  
I didn’t have enough time to think about it. All of a sudden, I had felt small yet strong arms clutch around my neck and pull me into a thin, dark close between two houses. Private and dimly lit. I swore to myself, trying to focus on my supposed attacker. A small, short figure. A child? She pressed her palm to my face and forced me to the dirty floor. I tried to call out but she bust her elbow into my throat.  
“What the fuck… who…?” I squealed through a throbbing neck and enormous headache. The little girl crouched to my level. My view gradually was no longer impaired, and I saw her face. Funny, it was the same girl who would enter my bed chambers to change my sheets. The same girl who would clean my clothes, and make sure everything was in order. The little girl with long dark hair and tired, yet beautiful blue eyes. I saw this little girl often, yet I failed to know a name…  
“What were you doing?” She said sternly.  
“What are you talking about?” I replied, slightly choked.  
“I know what you did. What were you doing in places you didn’t belong?” I adjusted my position on the cold, hard ground and pressed against the upcoming bruise on my cheek with the palm of my hand. “Where?!”  
“So you were the one who left the note.”  
“You are testing my patience.”  
“I have to find…”  
“Dune? Yes, I know.” Are you kidding me? This girl managed to pull me into a place where no eyes wandered, beat me up then provoke answers she already knew? This is absolutely ridiculous!  
“Why ask if you already know?” I stared with innocent eyes at her.  
“Listen, don’t – I mean don’t, do it again. Trust me on this, this village is not as safe as they say it is.”  
“Ok,” I started, closing my eyes briefly, headache pounding, “but what is your name?”  
She was gone. Nowhere to be seen. I didn’t even hear her footsteps.  
*  
“This is a song my… one and only person I pretty much think about made.” I sat on the counter to the tavern with my lute, strumming the strings gently. Around me, during the dusky part of the day, sat my audience. Some were drunk, some were not. Nevertheless, I was quite nervous. A silent void had struck; a void for me to fill. “I think it’s called The Wolven Storm…” I cleared my throat.

“These scars long have yearned for your tender caress  
To bind our fortunes, damn what the stars own  
Rend my heart open, then your love profess  
A winding, weaving fate to which we both atone…”

“…You flee my dream come the morning  
Your scent - berries tart, lilac sweet  
To dream of raven locks entwisted, stormy  
Of violet eyes, glistening as you weep.”

My ears almost burst as my audience flared in applause. I smiled. That’s actually the first time I pulled off that song perfectly. Thanks, Priscilla. Hunter approached.  
“That was really good, mate. Well done.” He thumped my back strongly.  
“Thank you.”  
“Listen, I have something I want to show you. Meet me tomorrow afternoon. Trust me, I think I have important information about Dune. I need your help.” As he said these words, he progressed in a more and more hushed voice. Something tells me we are going to do something quite dangerous. And if what that little girl say is true, I should be worried for my safety. This place isn’t what it seems. Everything has its secrets. My heart sank slightly, but I swiftly dismissed the thought as I was swallowed by the crowds of people leaping my way.


	6. Dread

I slept like a baby last night. After not sleeping from the sheer panic of that cryptic note the previous night, and the fact I had to play the lute in front of quite a lot of people, I think I needed it. I cannot even remember hitting the pillow. I reckon I snored loud enough too, but I didn’t hear that either!  
However, I was rudely awakened by a muffled knock at my door. How I couldn’t hear myself snore but I could hear this almost silent knocking, I’ll never know. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes and struggling to light the candle, I stumbled to the wonky-looking door at the end of my bed chambers. The door that led from my room to the hallway, then the pitch-black cold of the outside. The sun was nowhere in sight and already there were visitors at my door. With my door on the handle, the knocking continued, the pace, rhythm and volume strangely even each time. I opened it.  
Barging in, the little girl (the note-leaver and badass) pushed past me with little time to spare, suddenly rummaging through my drawers and cupboards like a snake in a devious plan. There was little in them, though; I hadn’t been here long enough to build a collection in any of the empty sockets…  
“Where is it?” she stabbed, not detracting from the wooden containers she flung across the room wildly. I gently closed the door behind her and looked at her astonishingly. What was she doing?  
“Where is what?” I responded calmly and quietly, quickly getting the impression that if anyone heard what was happening in this very room, bad things would occur.  
“The book. The book.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Holding my hands in surrender, I prayed she did not look in that drawer.  
“Oh, please.” She sighed, “Don’t lie to me, Dandelion.” Her colourful, young hair flickered behind her as she dashed to the next drawer, pulling it out frantically. No! Not that one…  
“I’m not!”  
“So, your witch-friend Yennefer just happened to conjure it inside this drawer then, did she?” For the first time since she came into my room, she looked me in the eye, holding up the scruffy leather book in her palm.  
“How do you- “  
“This is extremely important and even more dangerous.” She flicked rapidly through the pages, scanning the strange swirls and diagrams, which were useless to me… “Thank you.” She got up, packed the book underneath her arm and headed for the door. Dashing to the door, I held it – preventing her from leaving.  
“Woah, woah! You’re just going to take that? I don’t even know your name.”  
“Yes, and you don’t need to know that. Now move out of my way.”  
“You can’t take that!” I replied, my whisper restraining my eager-to-shout voice.  
“I’m on your side, sir. Now, please move.” Using some magical force, she hurled me effortlessly into the wall beside me, allowing her a clear path to the door. Soothing my aching head, I caught her attention once more.  
“Why are you helping me?” I could sense her aid. She was most-likely trying to examine the notes to help me solve the Dune-case. She left the note, advising me, and she warned me about the danger of this place. Surely, she was trying to help me, even if it didn’t seem immediately apparent.  
“I’m not. I’m just saving your life.” She stared at me, into my soul.  
“Isn’t that the same thing?” She closed the door and left, leaving me in a silent, and very messy room.  
***  
The next day, Hunter caught me from within the thin crowd of the village.  
“Dandelion, how are you?” he kindly tugged at my arm before patting my back. He’d just come back from his hunt, judging from the queue of corpses strung by his chest.  
“I’m fine.” I lied. He stared into the distance, sighing deeply. I wondered what went through that head of his. Whether he actually had an opinion on anything, but just didn’t say them aloud. I guess you just get used to not talking much when you have to. When you’re in the woods as silent as a mouse with a bow and arrow, hunting quietly…  
“So, about last night…” Ah yes, I remember. He wanted to show me something. It’s all flooding back to me now. The weight I’m carrying on my shoulders. I briefly went through the current situation in my head; I was right, it’s pretty shit. I’m far away from any familiar ground, Novigrad for one. The person who led me here, Dune, was nowhere to be seen – means that I have little way of getting back to Novigrad, which is frankly fantastic. And now I need to uncover these riddles, to solve this strange shit. The book full of scribbles, the blonde woman or sorceress, the supposed village tension being ‘not what it seems’. Here we go…  
“Uh, yes. Yes. What’s the plan?”  
“We head out.” Hunter pointed softly at the gate. “There’s a building I came across. Very small, but very interesting. I thought you’d make better use of it than I. So, you coming?” he smiled weakly, and I sensed where we were off to was something grave, and something not to be messed with.  
“Absolutely.” I replied. I couldn’t tell whether I was ready or not. It was like oil and water. One hot, one cold, and they don’t mix. I needed to solve this once and for all, but it was possible – no, probably – dangerous.  
“Wait!” someone called from within the crowd. Someone young… the girl. The girl with my book. Of course. “Here.” She shoved the book into my side like a knife and lost herself back where she just came from. I hid it, as if it were contraband.  
“Who was that?” Hunter asked in a peculiar tone.  
“Uh, no one.” I stabbed quickly. Yeah, I handled that poorly. I need to work on my smoothness in conversations, I know.  
“Well, then?” he ignored. “Coming?”  
“Yes.” I walked with him. He led me to the large gates, to which they opened gracefully by a couple of gatekeepers. I shivered as I exited with Hunter. This is the first time I’d been here since Dune was dying in my arms. It seemed like so long ago now…  
***  
It was a church-like building. It was tiny and overgrown from moss and vine-y grass gripping the stone roots of the structure. It literally only stretched a few metres wide and long, in a rectangular shape, with an arch on one of the sides, marking the entrance. It stood in the middle of a clearing, in the dead-centre of the woods, almost lost. I tried not to get mud at the bottom of my already-worn trousers. Hunter sheathed his bow on his back and led me to the entrance, like he was pushing me to look at something important. And he was.  
Inside sat an altar of sorts. Smothered by plentiful candles, all lit carefully.  
“I didn’t light those candles.” Hunter added. Strange. Someone’s been here and recently. Dusty books littered the tiny, rocky floors. At the base of the walls scrawled illegible words. Prayers? Strictures? Behind the altar, nothing. Perhaps a place to kneel. But why would you kneel behind the altar? “Look, Dandelion.” I was pulled from my thoughts as Hunter pointed up on the walls; higher – above me. Hunter retreated from the building and back outside, keeping watch. Though it was just him and I, I truly felt that there was someone else here…  
Marks and shapes, scribbled in white chalk. All over the walls, and only just visible via the helpful, dimly lit flames dotted around. Holy shit. They were identical to the ones in the book! The book I had tucked in my satchel.  
It was quick to decipher. I will spare you the details. I’ll give you the overview: there were peculiar switches embedded around the interior, linked to the shapes in the book. Thanks to the little girl, I was able to solve it. Thank you. I snapped the book shut and pressed the final, dirty and grimy switch. Click. I was almost engulfed by the moving platforms beneath my feet. Of course! The blank space behind the altar was a trap door. Stairs, leading to darkness. This was exciting and terrifying and the same time…  
“Hunter! I think I’ve done it.” He couldn’t hear me. I shrugged it off; he was probably around the corner, chasing some rabbit or something. I walked down the steps. Alone.  
I saw it. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was about to see the most terrifying thing I think I’ve ever seen. It managed to explain so much, yet create double the amount of questions at the same time. As I stumbled down the underground corridor, I felt like I was coming to a climax. To a stepping stone to unveiling the truth. I turned the corner to be greeted with an old wooden door with a big, metal knocker and a rusty handle. Despite the condition, it felt like it had some force… like I knew the answer lie behind it yet I couldn’t face it. I was shaking.  
I was inside.  
Dune. Holy shit. Dune. He was lying at the table. An operating table in the centre of the dark, cold room. Alchemy ingredients in the corner. Tomes spread across shelves. Smoke protruding from various flasks. He was almost naked, no shirt on. Shapes and demonic symbols branded on his skin. Oh, my – his eyes. Solid black. No white to be seen, like his pupils were pulled and stretched over all surface of his eyes. He was breathing, but softly. Unconscious.  
“Holy shit, Dune. What the fuck…” I trailed off, launching for his body. From the darkness, a figure emerged. The blonde woman. The sorceress. The motherfucker… “It was you!” She remained silent and, before I could launch at her, she forced her hand out and blasted me back. A force that I could not breach. “What the fuck is going on? Are you experimenting on him?”  
“He was near death. I had no choice. Otherwise, he would have died.” She spoke calmly, holding me back.  
“So you did all this?! This looks like some sort of… of possession! This is messed up-“ a glove layered my mouth and I was knocked on my collar bone, sending my body into tranquillity as I was led from the room and back up the steps where I came from, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. The blurry Dune faded as I was dragged away.  
I was brought to the fresh air. A crowd of guards surrounded the building. I thought they were bandits at first, but that was before I saw Cebri approach. The warm glove let me breathe and I spat at her feet.  
“This was your idea! You knew! You all knew!” I shouted. I was furious. I struggled from the person who gripped me, but it was useless. Cebri stared me down, heartless.  
“I was afraid about this. I’d hoped it had never come to this.” I saw Hunter now. He was like me – bound. Cebri continued, “come on, we’re heading back.”  
***  
I struggled as I was forced up the wooden steps. The crowd gathered around the platform. Hunter followed. Then the little girl… After we stood on our stools, the ropes caught our neck. The girl and I, about to be hanged. Well, shit. The crowd finally spoke true; cheering on our humiliation, and death. Cebri stood next to us, her wrinkly fingers gripping the wooden stand beside her, ready to kick the stools and send us away. I needed Geralt right now, but unfortunately he wasn’t just going to appear out of nowhere. I was trapped. We were trapped. Hunter stood just as pale-looking as I, but he wasn’t being hanged. Of course he wasn’t. He committed equal to I, but the village needed their precious food… No, I shouldn’t be like that; It’s selfish, but I was feeling the rope tug at my neck…  
How in the world was I going to get out of this one?


	7. Dandelion's Tales, Part 2

“Go on, swing it at me.” Panting like a tired boar, I swung the sword at his right arm, then wiping the sweat from my forehead. The steel bounced right off him harmlessly, and I flung it into a nearby tuft of grass.  
“Please, can we just have a break?” Drops of exhaustion slid down my skin, slippery – and even worse in this heat. Dune stared back at me, gazing straight into my weak and feeble eyes as I continued to pant. I pushed my back into a tree stump, uncaring of any bugs that might crawl over me. If I’m lucky, they’ll lick the sweat off me and cool me down quicker.  
“You need to learn how to use a sword, Dandelion.” Dune replied. He picked up the fallen weapon and offered it to me like he was offering me his hand, wanting me to grab it and stand once more; another try. I refused, shutting my eyes. The sweet, calming darkness drew me in, sleep at last… “Well, snoring our heads off isn’t going to help us get to civilisation!” Sleep rejected.  
“We’re in the middle of nowhere, Dune! We’ve just washed up on a beach after a shipwreck, and now we’re a needle in a haystack.” My legs were stiff. I yanked myself from the dirt-riddled ground and rested against the low-hanging branch. “I mean, look around us. Forest here, forest there! Forest as far as the eye can see. We are running out of food, of… of water, and you’re having me do miniature sword duels ‘because I need to learn how to use one’. Is it really the time?! Please tell me you have a plan.” I was shouting. I was shouting at him. I ducked my head, drawing my eyelids once more. “I’m sorry.” I felt his stare protruding through the back of my neck, splitting the skin like a cold dagger. The coldness of this dagger on my skin; a relief from the heat of this weather…  
“No, I’m sorry.” He replied, sheathing both his sword and mine into his belt. I wish I could just rip all my clothes off and just let it breathe. Forest life wasn’t for me, I suppose. He was half naked. No wonder he found this exercise easy. He wore no shirt, his skin respiring, and no drops of liquid shining from his back, or his arms, or his breasts, yet it felt like we’d been doing this for hours… “Listen, Dandelion, we’re going to be fine, alright? I got you out of it before, and I’ll help you again.” He pat me on the back, his black beard shimmering amongst the newly-arrived wind, ducking and diving through tree-trunks and tall strands of grass. Heaven to my face. I felt replenished once more, drinking in the breeze… “One more?” He held the sword up. I grasped it.

“Alright, alright. I’m done now.” I dropped the sword. Another hour had passed, probably. The sun was setting, emitting a golden, juicy glow upon us and the wildlife. It was glorious and peaceful, yet even I knew we had to find shelter before it got dark. He sheathed his also, finally agreeing with me. I thought I saw a reflection on his tired brow, but he turned too quickly.  
“We’ll keep going for now. We’ll reach something eventually.”  
“I hope so. What I would do for some water…”  
“Listen, Dandelion,” He has a habit of saying that, “regardless, sword or not, the message I’m trying to get across to you – is to not give up. Fight your side, else you’ll fall. Do you understand?” he turned again, looking at me for a response. I stared back nodding. That was before his once bright and joyous eyes slid into a deafening black, a menacing black liquid flooding his sockets. Like possession. Then I was dragged from my thoughts.

***

The little girl and I stood hopelessly on the gallows, wind smacking the air from our terrified lungs. I wobbled on the unusually small stool; The only thing keeping me alive whilst the rope tugged at my neck. Hunter stood petrified below, almost camouflaged in the crowd of people in front of us, awaiting our execution. Looking through tears, Tugna smirked from a distance, his cocky stride sending his message; crystal clear. I was angry. He wrenched my guts… He smiled in my face from across the crowd, as if saying “That’s right, I’ve finally beaten you.” I hadn’t even known him that long, but his young and simple brain of his still wanted me dead. Shor was there too, and was one of the few who actually looked afraid. As well as Hunter, Shor wanted to get up here and save me from my fate. He peered from his blacksmith area with his short, tiny legs of his dwarf-structured body, and he feared for my life. I cast him a weak smile, more tears returning. I had lost Dune. I had lost everything. I turned. Finally, Cebri.  
“For the trespass of village property.” Her words stung like a striking sword, her wrinkles and grey hair moving in the wind. Frankly, she can go fuck herself. “For the assault of a peaceful woman of our community.” The little girl beside me, bless her. She was terrified. She meant no harm. “And for the discovery of a personal enquiry regarding another citizen, and one of our medical staff.” Bullshit, woman. The white-haired woman has left some demonic presence inside his body; God knows what him – or the thing inside him – will do now. She moved on to the girl now, listing her crimes like boxes on a checklist.  
“I sentence you to death.” Words stinging, tanging like sour blood. The faceless, masked man kicked her stool, and the little girl choked, body flinging until it stopped once more. Death ushering her to a peaceful place… “Now, the bard.” Her eyes. Her vicious eyes pointed at me, and the brute of the man behind me put his boot on my stool. I closed my eyes…  
“Bandits!” Someone screamed, jolting me like lightning. I daren’t open my eyes. Was this a dream? Was I dying? Was this burst or jolt just the noose cracking my neck? No. Looking left: panic. Bashing on the unstable gates were hundreds of bandits. Hundreds. Trying to get through, their faces sharper than their wielded swords, they shattered the ground with their roar. For the first time in a century, people’s spiking glares were off me. Instead, on the havoc at the entrance, before spreading like a plague upon the town, screaming; cracking my eardrums. This was panic like I’ve never seen it before. This was terror. Up to this point, Cebri’s people have been guarded and secure. Now, this was true terror. People whizzed about, not in jolly or passivity, but for their safety. Somehow, my stool had not been pushed, and I was stood here struck to the bone, helpless to the invasion. Bound and noosed.

***

Hunter. Thank fuck. He slipped from his detainer (who had lost interest and ran for the nearest building – honestly, this security has gone tits-up) and grabbed the nearest sword. From the belt of a guard, I think. It was hard to tell amongst the storm of people. He went straight to me. Behind me, in fact. So many around us, yet all of them ignoring us, hidden in plain sight. Did I just cheat death?  
“Thank Melitele. Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” My profusions of thanks were as frequent as his stabs to the ropes that bound my wrists.  
“We need to get out of here.” He replied in panic, “This is not over.” For the first time, I saw him panic. Ever since, he always looked like he had a plan. Currently, the sword he was cutting with was shaking, almost toppling me over the edge into death regardless. He was shaking amidst all of this. My heartbeat matched the thumps of the gate, and the cracking of the wood. We didn’t have enough time…  
“What are we going to do?” I stuttered weakly, frozen to the spot, trembling and eyeing the progressive destruction of the enforcements.  
“All that we can to get out of this mess.” It was a race. A race on ice in a fog of smoke and mirrors. A race between the cutting of the rope and the gates. Who would be first? My life – everyone’s lives – were at the tip of a shard.  
“I do hope so! Sometime soon, please?” I failed to pry a chuckle. Usually I was good at that: making light of a situation. Not now.  
“Listen to me,” he was knocked to the floor and off the raised platform and into the blizzard of fear. A guard. Shit. I was powerless. Come on, he was almost through. I felt the strings of the cut rope, but I was still just bound. I swore profusely. A guard tumbled atop Hunter, reaching for his sword to thrust up his throat. Suddenly, the glint of his sword exited the attacker’s back, before the warm corpse slid off the end of it and onto the mud, creating a space for civilian’s to trip over and fall to their demise. Now bloodied, Hunter’s sword continued at my bounds, before that final tug liberated me. As swift as possible, I undid the rope around my neck and toppled down the stool, falling to the wood. My legs floundered, shock paralysing me.  
“Oh my goodness, are you alright?” I asked him, face tainted with bruises.  
“Yes, yes.” And that’s when the gates collapsed.  
There were hundreds of them. I swear there were. Blurs of bandits, multiplied and multiplied again, wielding sharp steel and shields, roaring and sprinting. Straight for the people of the village. Straight for us. Screams were deafened by the thunderous footsteps of leather against hard ground. This was it.  
“Run.”  
He helped me. He helped me up and I lie on his shoulder, clambering from the platform. After, I let him go, confident on my own two feet and shielding my eyes from the running people. Everything that happened felt like an eternity, yet it was only a few seconds. Civilians melted to oozing corpses as the hostilities spread like water through the village. Horror at its purest. Dry in my mouth, lips cracked and white but not from thirst; from dread. We ran through the downpour. Both of us, I following him.  
“Here, Dandelion. Here!” He ushered me to an arch-shaped wooden door, letting me duck inside into the darkness before him, latching the steel bolt behind him. We plunged into the abyss. Down the steps and onto the marble. It took me a few seconds to realise where I was, but my sense of smell noticed before my eyes. The medical lab. The what-should-be a clean hospital of a large, open space quickly became tainted with a shadowy, bloodied, murky basement full of death and absence. How long had it been like this? How long had this whole place turned to shit? Hunter retreated down the steps behind me, and I saw a figure in the room, blocking out the already slim flow of light from a nearby, high window.  
“Well, hello there.”  
Tugna.

***

“It’s thoroughly nice to see you again.” He croaked calmly, flicking his glinting sword between his palms, warming them for what was to come. Hunter drew his, yet I could see from his eyes that he wasn’t comfortable using a sword.  
“I can’t say the same to you.” I replied, trying to cover my fear – the curse of a high-pitched, whiny voice, coming to haunt me again in the most important of times. I stood my ground, legs shaking like a tower about to fall, crumbling under the weight…  
“Well, now I have you here… I can have you all to myself. No witnesses.” The sword gleamed again in the darkness. In the suffocating blanket of the darkness. He took a swing at I, to which I darted backwards into a sharp counter, and Hunter deflecting the bow weakly with his own, his stance failing. Looking at my hand, I noticed a shard of blood crawling down my palm. I had nothing. No weapon… Think.  
“Wow, Hunter! You really are shite. You can’t even wield a sword.” He swung his cocky atmosphere around the room ten times over, and I could feel my wrenching gut spewing hatred upon him.  
“Shut up, Tugna.” Hunter replied through gritted teeth, trying to mirror our enemy’s stance.  
“You never belonged here, Hunter, I’m afraid. After your stupid ‘boyfriend’ died, Cebri only kept you ‘cus you were good at gathering food for us. You meant nothing to us; just a blank silhouette. A tool in our thriving village.” His black hair shimmered in the thin light, and I was only just prying myself from the now bloody countertop, groaning silently.  
“You take that back, asshole!” Hunter struck. Tugna sprained the archer’s wrist as he came into attack, making a clunking metal sound as he dropped his sword against his will, shrieking in pain. Tugna laughed like the point of a knide, words stabbing the air in a sinister manner.  
“Ooh, we got him biting!” he said, teeth glinting. “You know, that’s surprising, actually – isn’t it, Dandelion? He spends so much time in his little ‘quiet state’ that it’s relieving to finally hear him squirm. You know, I think I’ll gut you, myself. It’ll prove much more satisfying!”  
“Back off.” I shouted from a few paces from the two of them. Now walking towards the slim figure, I began to smell his tainted breath, hammering my nostrils, bludgeoning my face with gruesome warmth. “I said, back off.” My eyes locked with his until he looked away, balancing the end of his sword on his shoulder.  
“Oh, this is fantastic! The mouse has come out to play.”  
“I’m not scared of you, Tugna.” I was, but I couldn’t show it. Hopefully, he didn’t see my heart jumping out of my chest, through my crimson apparel.  
“Really? Try this.” He shot pain through my stomach. He punched my side with the blunt of his sword before I could blink. Rolling on the floor in agony, my vision blurred. I received another hit in the throat. “Go on, Dandelion, tell us: are you afraid now?” I gurgled at his feet. “I’m sorry, I can’t hear you. Speak up, lad!” I’m going to kill him.  
“Let’s cut to the point, shall we?” Tugna continued, “Dandelion, you cannot even wield a sword. When I saw you with your little friend a few days back, I was fairly disappointed actually. How can one who cannot even defend himself for shit, manage to make it this far in this world?” We both watched him wave his weapon, both defenceless. Finally, he stopped further down the room, blocking the only light perfectly and casting a shadow on us. “Then I realised, you don’t need one. Dandelion, you speak words as squeaky and annoying as a pesky little dormouse, that it feels almost like a dagger in the ears, you know?” He laughed again before glaring at Hunter beside me. “I’ve been thinking of that one all day. Did you like it? He doesn’t even need a sword because his little, barely audible catastrophe of a sound acts as one! Do you… do you get it?” Hunter didn’t reply, only stared at him with eyes of fire, my throat still burning. His smile wiped away. “You don’t get it do you? You don’t get the joke?” His cynical expression morphed from happy to dark. His mocking tone turned to seriousness. His laughter dissolved to growling. “Well then, let’s get started.” Tapping his sword on the ground, he started chanting, flicking from me to Hunter, then back again. He was picking one of us. The finger landed on Hunter.  
“Hunter! Now, should I start with the stomach, or the kneecap? What a choice…” I blinked, and when I opened my eyelids, I noticed a steel glint piercing Tugna’s throat. The steel dissolved to a thick red, blood spurting out, gurgling as he tried to speak. Clutching the blade, Hunter and I stared at each other, both surprised. As he fell, another dark figure emerged behind him, plucking the sword from the corpse. This figure was shorter… Much shorter…  
“Aye, aye. Let’s shut your wee trap once and for all.” As he emerged from the shadows, Shor’s hand offered to pick me up from the floor, with a big grin on his face.  
“What? How? How did you get in? We bolted the door.” I stuttered, throat clearing.  
“Oh, there’s a wee side-door, matey. Did you not notice?” He pointed to a smaller door in the far corner of the room. We laughed all we could before we were reminded of the panic above us. We heard smashing from the stairwell. Bandits, coming in. The three of us stared at it. “We need to go, lads.”  
Suddenly, there was this loud roar. A roar that deafened us, coming from outside. It felt like it was coming from a mile away. It was a demonic, ear-splitting roar that shook the earth. Then screams. Lots of screams. Howls of men cutting the air, as if ripping their skin apart. The devilish outcry continued, like a spiritual presence had awakened. Like something dormant, which we had all forgotten about, but was now starting to wake up…  
Dune.

***

It was too exhausting. I had found out my friend’s fate. I had watched a little, innocent girl die. I had missed death by a few moments. I had wounds and bruises over me. I had watched another gurgle as his blood dripped to the floor. All in a couple hours. Fatigue was weighing me down, yet I knew I could not stop. We still had a long way to go.  
Breaching the stale air, we crouched through into the light. The sight… my God, the sight. Panicked civilians dissolved into stench-riddled corpses. The usual, florescent grass morphed from a saturated green to a melted, thick red. Flies in the air made it hard to see, and the sharp taste of the atmosphere blinded us. Instead of woman and children crying, a dark, nightmare-inducing howl of a man plagued the streets. On top of that, bursting doors and shattering windows emitted ear-piercing sounds from further down the paths. Bandits thrusting the points of their swords into the stomachs of men, guarding their family, and woman, protecting their children. It was horror. Still, many people trampled over the existing bodies, escaping the threat, holding little ones who cried and cried, or packages of items, or just their skirt as they hobbled over the uneven ground only to be slaughtered moments later. We stood in the middle of an abundance of running, scared objects, panicked that we’d also fall by a sword any moment. We blended in well, however. It was almost like we were invisible amongst the chaos. Whilst others ran, we had our heads in the sky, trying to locate the sound of the deafening roar. Then I saw it.  
In the direction of the small alter-building, a black smoke denied the law of physics, and rose up into the sky, plaguing the blue into a dark, liquid black – and it was spreading. Moving, towards us. Towards the town. Thick, black essence from up to a mile away, moving like Nekkers towards this chaos. It was far, but it was rapid. Too rapid.  
“Hunter.” I called. For once, I unlocked my eyes from the event, and darted them around me. A blur of people. Shor and Hunter were nowhere to be seen. I was knocked to the ground by a woman, and as I stared back up at her, her tunic was breached by a thin, spiking dagger thrown from elsewhere. Her body flunked to the ground, the majority of it over myself. I was being buried by bodies, and trampled by panicked feet. I needed to get up.  
Wrenching myself from the sticky, grasping ground, I searched once more, calling for Hunter. Nothing. They were lost within the crowds of people.  
And that was when I saw Cebri from within her headquarters building, staring out the window, trying to hide. Her door intact, her safe haven untampered with. We met gazes for a moment. I made my move.

***

The door was unlocked, surprisingly. Slowly limping in, and closing the door behind me – muffling the chaos, I stared through the muck and the dust. This tiny office, depressed and empty. Dim, full of unbreathable contents, as if no air had entered in years. In the corner, this poor old woman, held a dagger in my direction. Cebri, who accused me of things I had not committed out of spite, tried to kill me in front of everybody, and now defending herself against a tired bard who can’t wield a sword to save his life, and who only wanted away from this place. The silence stung the air.  
“Cebri.” I sighed, moving slowly towards her low body. She leaned on a chair, weak from a leg wound, blood contaminating her clothes. “Let me help you.”  
“Get away from me.” She spurted, waving her dagger once more, moving the airy dust. She had blood on her forehead, and in her grey, ancient hair. Her figure a creaking house.  
“I can help you.”  
“Look at the mess you’ve made here!” Her voice breached the whisper of the room. “If it weren’t for you, everything would’ve been fine! Look… look what you’ve done.” This was an innocent woman who only wanted to do the best for her townsfolk, but I could see it in her eyes; she was afraid of me. I had a sword latched to my belt, given to me from Hunter earlier, but it remained there. My hands were held in the air. Please, Cebri – I mean no harm. “You… you should have died.”  
“I know you don’t mean that. Cebri, put the weapon down. I don’t want to hurt you.”  
“No!” She screamed.  
That was when the door flung off its hinges and into the wall on the other side, leaving a heavy imprint. The muffled sounds of death became vivid once more, and light struck the room. My heart was in my throat. Nobody with normal human strength could do that. Black smoke filled the floor, sliding like a snake into the room. We both stepped back, afraid. Heartbeats in our throats, we watched as Dune walked in, calmly and rhythmically – his steps equally hitting the wood, with no deviation.  
Cebri screamed as her ears and eyes and nostrils flooded with the darkness, with the smoke. Her dagger thumped the wood by her feet and she was ripping her hair out, screaming and screaming like bees crawling over her skin. The black smoke covered her facial features, her eyes blackening, tangling her feet and bringing her to the ground. I watched in horror as Dune’s demonic essence plucked her to the ground, death bringing her peace until she screamed no more.  
“Oh, my god.” Dune. He stood by the archway where the door used to be, and he glared at me with black, lifeless eyes. He wore the same clothes as the last time I saw him, days ago – as if his corpse was dug out of the ground and revived. I saw the bloodstain where I stabbed him, but this time it wasn’t red. It was a black, thick oily liquid. He was the one who cast the scream. His teeth were black, and the smoke poured from him rapidly. That wasn’t my friend in there. It was something different. Something possessive.

***

“Dune, you need to listen to me.” He didn’t reply. “Dune, please. I know you’re in there. Whatever they’ve done to you, y- you can fight it.” No response. Instead, he took steps closer to me, suffocating me. “Remember when we first met, eh? When you saved me. I was tied up in that bloodied room like an idiot? Like- like a damsel in distress?” I chuckled slightly. His lips were stone. “Please, my friend.” Tears plucked themselves from my eyes, my voice wavering. “What about when I fell down that trap into that Nekker den, and I thought you left me, but then you came back to save me with your friends? That was impressive.” He took more steps towards me, and his face was only a few inches away from mine. His head shaking slightly, his eyes determined, eyelids flickering. Something was fighting within him. “Come on, my friend.”  
His strong, rock-solid hand breached my throat. I couldn’t breathe. His arm suffocated my stomach, lifting me off the ground.  
“Stab me, Dandelion.” I heard him say- figments from my memory back in the woods. I remember him saying it, and somehow, I felt it was relevant. Like he was talking to me now through memories. “Fight your side, else you’ll fall. Do you understand?”  
My vision blurred. I was running out of breath. I squeezed a few words from my thin remainder of my throat. “I’m sorry.”  
I inserted my sword into his side. He spat black liquid. He coughed smoke. His eyes dilated until there was nothing but white. He liberated me, and he fell to the ground, leaving an abyss of dark blood on my sword. The smoke around him cleared, and eventually, his body stopped quavering, until it was still once more. I was left with a sword in my hands, struggling for breath, and tremoring with fear. Two corpses lie by my feet, and my face was full of panicked tears. I stood there like a stump, my weapon still pointed at Dune’s body. I had killed it. I had killed him.

***

It was quiet outside. It was like the storm had passed. Bodies covered the floor, but it was only that. Bodies. The bandits were nowhere to be seen. Maybe they left, I’m not sure. No, of course they wouldn’t leave. We had won. With red, upset and tired eyes, I crawled across the ground. I saw Shor finishing off a bandit. Hunter, too. The crowds of people before had thinned, and only a few of the village’s guards remained, battered and bloodied. We had defeated the storm. We did it. Somehow, in my gut, it’d felt like we had lost. Some died via Dune and whatever possessed him – God, Cebri. Poor woman. Some died at the edge of a sword. It was a battlefield. And so many, so many died. It was over. We heard birds, and the sunshine started to char the blood from all the bodies, creating a stench in the air. We heard trees rustling amongst the quiet. We had done it. It was over. The massacre had ended. And was it all my fault?

***

“Wait.” Shor struck the earth with his large, compressed dwarf-feet. Jogging up to us, he panted deeply as if he’d just ran around the continent twice. “I came to say goodbye.” He held out his hand, and I took it gladly.  
“Thank you.” I said sincerely. His bears rustled like the leaves off trees. He turned to Hunter.  
“And you, stay safe my man!”  
“Thanks, Shor.” I never knew how they did it, dwarves. Despite negativity in life, they always managed to quench a joyous feeling about their speech. Hunter and I left the gates, and I stared back at the village once more.  
“Wait. There’s somewhere I need to go first.”

***

Opening from pressure, the floor started to rumble. Hunter waited outside the altar-building, and I descended with a thick breath; bracing my fear. Inside the room, it was a mess. Black stains on the cobblestone walls, broken glass from fallen – or thrown – capacity, and a blank table in the centre, with red instead of black marks.  
I saw movement in the corner, then a hood, and a tuft of white hair. The sorceress woman lie with a dagger in her chest.  
“I’m… sorry.” She spluttered, gasping for air. I said nothing. “He… he wouldn’t have made it otherwise. He was fading, struggling to breathe, and I just did it. I didn’t want to lose him. You know, that’s my biggest fear. When I was younger, I tried to save my Dad after he had some Drowner accident, but I failed. Looks like I failed again.” She trailed off, tears striking her eyes.  
“What was he?”  
“It was a kind of necromancy for near-death individuals. It was meant to heal parts of his internal organs from the split of the dagger. It, instead, flooded his bloodstream, and that’s when it started. I don’t think I have a name for it; if you want, you can create one. I know your story, Dandelion, the friendly bard from Novigrad.” Her voice darkened despite her puncture in her chest.  
“You sent Dune… that thing ravaging across the village. Do you even know what you’ve caused? I don’t even know your name, and I’m afraid I don’t need to. Goodbye.”  
“I know it was you.”  
“What?” I turned back, halting my retreat.  
“Who stabbed Dune. I know it was you. I-“ she struggled again, pressure compressing her lungs, losing air. “A wound that messy… had to be you.”  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I hid my guilty face, back turned to her.  
“Wait, tell me. Was I right? Did you stab him? I need to know.” I breathed in deeply, guilt filling my conscience. Pressing my forehead against the cold wall, the words were stripped from my lips. I couldn’t say it. Turning back, she had taken her last breath. Her cold eyes stared into nowhere.

***

“There’s a sight I like to see!” I shouted at Hunter just so he could hear me amongst the chimes of bells and the sharp waves of the sea. The ship was closing into the Novigrad ports. I was home.  
“I’ve never been to Novigrad myself, believe it or not.” He smiled, adjusting the bow and quiver on his back.  
“Well, if you need a guide, you know where to find me!” I responded, unable to waver my eyes from the beautiful red buildings.  
“Er, I don’t.”  
“Oh, never mind then.”  
“I’m afraid this is where I leave you.” We walked on the port, then on the hard stone. People rushed around us, as per usual. He stared at me. “I’m headed to Velen, Dandelion. I have a… loose errand to attend to.” I responded with depressed eyes.  
“The first time we crossed paths, you tied me. Tell me, were you planning to slaughter us in the woods, then leave us under some leaves for people to find months to come?” He smiled.  
“I’ll leave that for you to decide. Write a poem!” He tapped the lute I held by my hand, carried all the way from Cebri’s grasp across seas. “Farewell, mate.”  
And there I was left to carry on about my day, watching him fade among the crowd. Every event that occurred over the last week had been cleansed, and it was like nothing had happened at all. My only scar I had to remember it by was the patchy spot on my right palm. And a connection to a close friend that had been broken too easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this series, Dandelion's Tales, Part 2. Remember, you can visit my Tumblr page, https://thealfanator.tumblr.com/ , where you can check out some of my other pieces of fanfiction, as well as here, A03, where they are uploaded too. However, I upload work first to Tumblr, so it's definitely the place to go if you want to read more!
> 
> If you want to leave me feedback, please go to my Tumblr and message me. I don't know how to use AO3 very well, so it's more likely that I'll respond there.  
> Have a good day :)


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